For hip Brooklyn witches, pointy hats and brooms are totally uncool, eye of newt has nothing on a stiff cocktail and even Wicca is considered way too mainstream. Instead of bubbling cauldrons, think political hexes, coven meetings on the beach at Coney Island and witch nicknames that include “Eat My Pagan Ass.”

“Nobody has called us [hipster witches] yet,” says Damon Stang, a lanky 29-year-old attired in a manner that suggests Salem meets Williamsburg. He serves as magister — a position of authority — within Kings County Coven No. 1, a 6-year-old Brooklyn-based community of modern-day witches. “I joke and say we’re the young face of occult New York. We’re definitely going [for a] less traditional approach to witchcraft, and an edgier approach. It does come from a place of sincerity.”

The coven started in 2006 and practices old-fashioned witchcraft, different from Wicca, a religion founded in the first half of the 20th century that emphasizes deity worship and has a core theology. Traditional witchcraft puts emphasis on nature, spells and practice rather than texts and devotion. They do consider themselves religious, but are not tied to a central philosophy or text; some adhere to other philosophies too, such as Buddhism.

That coven’s culture was on display last Friday night at Dixon Place off the Bowery, where the group started holding weekly public Brouhahas, or magick (the “k” indicates it’s real magic, the witches say) parties, this one focusing on love spells. Coven co-founder Raven Melissa Officinalis VanVan of Bed-Stuy, 36, looked slightly frantic in a low-cut tank top that showed off a tattoo of the Venus symbol on her forearm as she leaned over the counter and asked the bartender for salt. She held a plate of candles in her hand and shook salt over them.

“OK, this is how we do witchcraft in a bar,” she says.

Raven — non-coven name Raven Koch — then took to the stage and talked of “fantastic potions” that would help to cast the love spells as one patron shouted, “They’re called liquor!” The spells actually involved creating lists (or “petitions”) of ideal romantic situations people want to conjure — and blessing them with special candles.

Stang slings drinks behind the bar part time, and Koch used to work there too. The bar even has its own bubbling brew, called the Brouhaha, a Prosecco-based cocktail made in honor of the witchy events.

The love spells crowd was small but curious, ranging from unlucky-in-love types to people looking to protect serious relationships. Ingrid Genthner, a 25-year-old visiting from San Francisco, has been on 10 first dates in the past month to try and fix her tattered romantic life. In addition to suggesting a spell, Koch told her to stop offering to buy guys drinks at bars.

“That’s the opposite of what I would normally do in that situation,” Genthner says.

These Brooklyn witches don’t take themselves too seriously — they call non-witches muggles and profess love for the film “The Craft” — but they may just be the face of a growing movement of real witches. The coven, one of 15 active covens in the city, has five core members and another three or four who show up to meetings. Training to join takes a year and a day of reading and study before you’re invited in.

New York City has seen a “magical renaissance” as covens have become more diverse, Stang says. Shows like “True Blood” and the Harry Potter series have also done their share to help attract new witches.

“New York City historically has been an occult capital,” said Stang, who lives in Williamsburg and is originally from South Africa.

The coven meets once a month on the full or new moon at spots like the beach at Coney Island. Members can bring up anything they want to address with magic, be it a job development or personal obstacle. Spells might involve ingredients like herbs and Epsom salts as well as visualizations.

Lady Rhea, 61, a Wiccan high priestess and owner of the Magickal Realms shop in the Bronx, represents the old-school vision of witchcraft. She has become a mother figure to the scene and even served as mentor to Stang. She says city people tend to seek out witches for city problems, like romance, jobs, immigration, welfare and court cases.

So does all the hocus-pocus work? The last round of political spells in 2008 seemed to have an effect: Koch said shortly after they hexed John McCain, he introduced his running mate.

“We feel like we did it,” she says. “Although we feel a little guilty conjuring Sarah Palin.”